


Dance

by GoldenSnowflake



Category: Storm Hawks
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSnowflake/pseuds/GoldenSnowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them really knew what happened. Aerrow had a chance, but... Stork stands by and watches it all, until one day, he's had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance

He knocked back another as he watched her, eyes glowing with hate. Yellow orbs in thick glass, almost like Chinese lanterns. The writhing of bodies seemed to slow to a crawl; almost stopping completely for long seconds before hair and hips and knees cracked like whips through the stagnant, smoky air.

And not once did she look at him.

Eyes glazed over; pleasure building and firing off of her curves and fingertips in waves. The pink made her skin turn strawberry; the green made her hair mint. He wanted a taste. Another pale hand slid across her waist and his tongue pressed against his teeth.

Did she care?

At all?

Years of doting and timid smiles and trust stronger than he'd ever built with another. And her face didn't so much as turn toward him. His head hollowed more and an hour slid by.

In an awful way, though, he liked watching it. The eyes slipping over her body and her hair sliding in tight curls over her shoulders as she twisted and stepped. At least none of them were getting her to themselves. She'd never left with one before.

And he hoped she wouldn't start tonight.

Where were the others? Didn't they care? How long ago was it that everyone thought Aerrow was on the home stretch? Then, somehow, she'd just…

Changed her mind.

Reluctance wasn't exactly the word. Was it? No, it was just…

She just didn't.

And there was a time when he thought it had to do with him.

She'd stare at him; he'd feel it. He'd turn around and instead of being relieved that it wasn't a brain lesion, he'd be covered in icy fingers of dread. Her golden irises glowed like suns as she watched him. And she wouldn't look away. Not for long minutes.

Sniffing in disgust, he closed his eyes. His head hurt. His shoulders ached.

Finn liked her too. He never admitted it, but obvious wasn't strong enough to describe it. Even Junko. He was stupid to have a chance, but nobody dared hurt his feelings.

He felt it.

Though the beat of the music and the vibrating of alcohol in glasses and soda in bottles. Through the blinding flashes of color and the thick waves of body movement.

Her full lips parted a fourth of an inch.

Her eyes fluttered.

His chair hit the floor behind him.

She had moaned.

It was some asshole with over-gelled hair and expensive clothes, his hands moving with each gyration of her torso from her hips forward. A brunette with ice blue eyes.

His pupils narrowed and his ears lay back as his teeth gritted together.

People, Blizzarians, Raptors separating. The sea parting around him as rich lights peppered each face.

Her face turning toward him, earrings swinging, gorgeous eyes opening wider.

His face turning, a fraction of a second too late. Fist.

Impact.

Knuckles cracking against asshole jaw; a spoiled brat smacking against the floor as boots moved to accommodate and blurry faces tilted toward them. He breathed in though his teeth; breathed back out.

Her mouth opened. "Stork?"

His yellow eyes flicked up at his name, his snarl shrinking a little as she stared him.

"I…" words were sharp, close against the backdrop of heavy bass vibrating through the floor. "I don't want him touching you like that."

"Do you-" Her gorgeous face, eyes blinking like miniature eclipses. "Do you want to go?"

Background moving quickly; asshole crumpling slowly beneath Stork's shadow.

"Yes."

Hand. Her hand; her slim, warm, pretty fingers sliding into his palm. His slowing heart rate shooting back up as he turned and squeezed her dark fingers with his own.

He parted the crowd and walked toward the door, holding Piper's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Written December 12, 2009. (The day before I turned 17!)
> 
> I honestly don't know what I think of this. I think it was the combination of too little sleep, too much Diet Coke, and a lot of weird, lovesicky music, such as Mindless Self Indulgence and Metro Station. I've gone back and revisited it a few times, and each time I do, I have a different reaction. It's very...
> 
> ...different.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think. :)


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